


You know David Guetta?

by dreamboi_jazz



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 05:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamboi_jazz/pseuds/dreamboi_jazz
Summary: Very loosely based on this prompt: In the midst of writer's block, an author goes to sit at a bus station looking for inspiration. They get more than they bargained for.





	You know David Guetta?

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing after nearly three years and first for the fandom after lurking for so long (commenting just as jazz ;) ) This definitely turned out longer than i thought!  
Find me on tumblr: https://shinythingsorpaperrings.tumblr.com/

Beca draws her finger across the laptop in front of her for what feels like the millionth time within the last three hours, bringing the screen back to life. The cursor blinks at her, almost mocking the fact that she still hasn't written anything more than the document title "Theo is a turd-tle and I need to write shit for my album." That was nearly a week ago. The title still amuses her but unfortunately funny titles won't write her next song for her. Even the notebook she carries around specifically for when - or rather  if at this point - inspiration strikes is blank save for tiny doodles in the margin just so she feels vaguely productive.

Her office space is disrupted by a clearing throat and Beca looks up to see Theo has  so thoughtfully let himself in.

"Have you-" Theo starts.

"No," Beca quickly cuts him off.

"Okay you don't even know what I was going to say."

"You're about to ask if I've written anything since this morning, and the answer is no."

"Actually," he snarks, "I was going to suggest you work from home for the next few days. Plus anyone with eyes can tell you've not written anything."

Beca heaves out a sigh. It's not like her home-studio is going to be any different than the studio she's in now. "Shut up. What could working from there possibly achieve, it looks exactly the same as here. But you know that, you helped set it up."

"Not literally you idiot." Theo rolls his eyes at the brunette in front of him. "Hey! Does that say I'm a turd?" He leans in slightly, squinting towards Beca's screen.

She lets out a brief laugh, closing the lid of her laptop. "Maybe."

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh. "I'm saying don't work in a studio. Try the park, or a cafe, or something. Switch up your environment. You and I both know you don't get out much."

"Pfft whatever."

Theo makes a move to leave. "Look, just think about it."

\----

Another half an hour later and Beca has all but given up on writing for the day, not that she had made any progress in the first place. The page of her notebook is covered in little doodles of headphones, boomboxes, and little poops labelled 'Theo'. She hates that he's probably right in that a proper change of environment will likely spark something in her. Beca spins in her chair a couple times before opening up maps and figuring out what's within walking distance from her apartment. She'll go outside but she's not going far. No amount of inspirational sunshine bullshit is going to have her trekking any further than ten minutes from the comfort of her couch. Maybe fifteen at a push, provided there was coffee nearby.

Beca saves the open document (out of habit more than anything) and sweeps her things into her bag. A quick stretch of her limbs and Beca trudges out, scowling at Theo's smug knowing grin, and into the sunny Californian afternoon. She could go sit at the picnic table in the quad the studio defines as a garden. It's more like a sad patch of grass next to the parking lot. Realistically though, she knows she should make the drive back to her apartment and actually wander a  real  park.

Fifteen minutes later and Beca knows she at least made the right choice to leave when she did to avoid the horrendous traffic as she pulls into the complex's car park. She decides to travel light, taking only her notebook, slipping it into the inner pocket of her leather jacket. Some would argue its too hot for it, but Beca had no plans to actually be sat in the sun. Plus, pockets. Can't go wrong with additional pockets.

The first stop on Beca's 'Grand List of Places' is, unsurprisingly, the Starbucks across the road. Stepping into the short queue, Beca takes a moment to observe her surroundings, noting that several of the tables are occupied with people hunched over laptops, but otherwise nothing particularly awe inspiring about them. No doubt they're all working towards a deadline, or maybe some of them are just here for that hipster vibe. Either way, Beca knows that she's having her order to go.

Coffee in hand, Beca makes her way to stop two on the List: the park. She had given consideration to the library, the peace and quiet of the venue definitely appealing, but if she was going to take this "outside thing" seriously, another silent building definitely wouldn't do the trick. The park is undoubtedly more green than the studio garden, and once she's found a suitably shaded bench to work from, Beca sits down, cradling her drink between her hands. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the blend of coffee and freshly cut grass before taking a sip and allowing herself to relax into the bench.

\----

Tapping at her notebook with a pencil, Beca stares out across the greenery, watching joggers pass by and the occasional dog that stops to sniff at her boots, their walkers apologetic as they gently tug a leash. There's an old couple throwing bread - or seeds, she can't quite tell - into a rapidly growing flock of pigeons some benches over, and a few kids kicking a ball around. All this life and noise going on around her, yet none of it making an impact on the brunette. Her notebook has a few new doodles and several scribbled out lines about grass, ducks, newspapers, and soccer, just not anything useful. She'd gone out of her way to change up her day and her environment, but still, nothing. But she refuses to be defeated, not after she'd spent this long surrounded by insects and plants. If Stacie could see her, she'd probably make a comment about how tanned she'd be from the whole hour (ONE WHOLE HOUR) in the sun.

It might actually be a good idea to see Stacie, Beca muses to herself. Having another person around - that isn't Theo - might be helpful. At least she'd be able to bounce ideas off someone else and not look like a weirdo talking to herself in a public park. Beca shoots a few texts to her friend to confirm the visit and shocks them both when she says that she'll get the bus.

The walk to the stop is as uneventful as the studio, her brain on autopilot, following the familiar route from before she had the car. She sits down on the tiny metal bench, tapping out another text to Stacie letting her know she's en route, even going so far as to send a selfie (with most of her cropped out, of course) at the stop just to prove a point. Realising that she still has a little while to wait, Beca pulls her notebook back out to attempt a different approach at writing. She starts noting down individual things she sees that are of the slightest interest and assigns a number to how eye catching they are in the moment.

"Hey, have you been waiting long?"

The question startles Beca out of her latest procrastinatory doodle. She turns to look at the offending speaker, who had apparently taken it upon themselves to sit next to her, and comes face to face with bright blue eyes and a dazzling smile. Beca blinks several times, taken aback by the hot redheaded woman in, what she assumes to be, a lab coat. Wait. Hot? No. Gorgeous. No wait. Jaw-droppingly beautiful. Hang on. Beca groans internally, knowing she's fucked, and wills herself to form coherent sentences.

"Uh. What?" Smooth, Mitchell, real smooth.

"I asked if you'd been here long," the redhead giggles and it's all Beca can do to not look like a dying fish gaping.

"Oh, uh, I guess? I- I don't really know, maybe ten minutes, sorry, I've been a little preoccupied."

"I noticed." There it is again, that brilliant smile. Who could be this happy waiting for a bus of all things? "I like the doodles. Are you going for word association or something?"

Oh god, a talker. Sure, this girl might be attractive, but damn if Beca can't stand strangers talking to her, let alone get into her personal space and see her notebook. But there's something captivating about her that Beca actively tilts the pages towards the girl.

"Yeah I guess? Working on lyrics for my next track." Beca shrugs off the task.

"Can't wait to hear whatever it is, Miss famous-next-track-writer! Done anything I might've heard?" The redhead waggles her brows at the question, a mischievous tone to her voice.

Beca's sure she's as red as this girl's hair, still not really used to actually living her dream in Los Angeles. She's also quite fond of the anonymity she's managed to claw for herself, as evidenced right now with this girl's question. Out of fear of embarrassment in the event that this girl either A: doesn't know who she is, or B: doesn't like what she produces, Beca opts to keep details vague.

"You know David Guetta?"

"What, have I been living under a rock?" The redhead jests. "Wait, you're not about to tell me you're David Guetta in disguise, are you?"

"Ha ha. No. But, uh, I've done similar sort of stuff, so if you like him you might like what I do." Beca feels her insides cringe, realising she sounds like a nervous teenager presenting a mixtape.

"Assuming you get your aca-amazing lyrics done, right?" The girl teases, and Beca wishes she wasn't so easily flustered by everything on this stupid rock.

"Uh... Yeah- wait aca-what now?" Beca furrows her brow, trying to remember if the term had cropped up recently from one of her interns.

"Aca-amazing," the redhead responds matter-of-factly. "I did a cappella in college, won a few titles," she shrugs, briefly glancing down and away from the brunette. "And tacking 'aca' onto things just kinda stuck, I guess." The redhead pauses, as if to say something more but instead gasps audibly. "Oh my gosh, how rude, I've been going off about college and asking you personal things and I haven't even introduced myself!"

"I'm Chloe." She sticks her hand out with a small smile which Beca reciprocates, shaking her hand firmly.

"Oh, uh, Beca."

"Nice to meet you Oh Uh Beca," Chloe laughs and Beca replies with a groan. The redhead leans into Beca's space, gently slipping the pen away from her. She scribbles something down and Beca is acutely aware of how many of her personal rules and boundaries are being broken in this moment.

"There. Try drawing directional arrows between words you think flow. It might help." The redhead leans back showing off her work in the notebook, fitting the pen back in Beca's hand as if it never left. "You know, I think we're gonna become fast friends."

"Oh... Thanks?"

"You're totes welcome. Oh, that's my bus! Bye Becs."

She can't tell if she imagined it or not, but Beca swears she heard a twinge of disappointment in Chloe's voice. Any additional spiralling on that matter is quickly swamped by how hot her face has become with the use of a nickname. If this were a cartoon, Beca reckons there would be actual steam coming off her.

Chloe boards the bus when it pulls over, waving like a child as it drives off. The entire interaction with the redhead left Beca so stunned she hadn't realised that the bus also happened to be the same one she needed.

[Beca Mitchell]: Missed the bus.

[conRAD]: Wtf Mitchell.

[conRAD]: How???

[conRAD]: You momentarily pass out or something?!

[Beca Mitchell]: Not sure. Going to drive. Explain later. Might have a new song idea.

[Beca Mitchell]: And when did you change your name in my phone??

[conRAD]: Yeah you better!

[conRAD]: Haha wondered when you'd notice.

[conRAD]: Text me when you've parked.

Beca throws her jacket to the side when she gets into her apartment, unbothered at the clattering of things falling out of pockets. She quickly changes into a hoodie and shoves a change of clothes into a small bag. After going round to Stacie's and having her round, Beca learned staying the night was a regular occurrence that she would have to accept as part of their friendship. She returns to pick up her jacket, throwing that in the same bag. Her hand stops over her notebook, having fallen and opened onto a mostly empty page. On the bottom corner of the page is a few words in unrecognisable handwriting that read "Beca", "Cute", "Call", and "Me" linked with arrows and a phone number at the bottom.

Beca arrives at Stacie's still grinning from ear to ear and Stacie spends a good ten minutes checking her for a temperature before they finally settle to bounce ideas over pizza.


End file.
